Wash me off your skin before you sin.
For your face will tell it all if ever you should lie down with him.
Wolves will morn as the blackened sky is torn, and pour out a warth if you should ever let him pass.
Pleasurable things can sting and hearts can deceive the mind, making it believe that we need a stranger in our beds to keep us warm at night.
And I'll be the one with chills on my skin if ever you let him in.
Even your body will reject, knowing that we were more than just our flesh.
You'd be causing the cracks if you're ever in the act, they'll appear on my heart just to know that you gave up all hope and our souls will drift apart.
I'm not one for collecting so I'll keep this vessel clean, in hopes that one day you'll wake up and feel and know how you're the only one for me.
A curse you'll put upon whomever you look in the eyes that isn't me, and time will tell the truth, that you let him in only to realize you're still so empty.
But if you still choose to proceed, first, wash me off of your skin.
So that the heavens do not cry from such an abominable sin.